


Starcrossed

by CeslaToil



Series: Some Enchanted Evening AU [4]
Category: Gravity Falls, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: (they die. most of the cast does. says so in the prologue.), Angst, Death, I'm being snarky in the tags because this is honestly not a happy story at all, Lots of Angst, M/M, Murder, Post-Finale, References to Shakespeare, Some Enchanted Evening AU, consider this MSN Puck's main backstory, self-indulgent butchering of Shakespearian canon, spoilers for Romeo and Juliet obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeslaToil/pseuds/CeslaToil
Summary: Puck confides in his friends about a tragic love affair from his past.





	1. Where We Lay Our Scene

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my lovely readers! Just as a quick note, I strongly recommend reading my fic "A Midsummer Nightmare" before reading this fic. I'm not going to lie, this story focuses on my rendition of Puck from that story, who is basically an OC loosely based on Puck from William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's dream. It's probably a tad on the self-indulgent side, so if you feel like skipping it, I'll understand. But, if none of that has scared you off just yet, then please, continue...

 

When it was discovered that McGucket Manor was in dire need of groceries, McGucket and Puck traveled to the supermarket together that afternoon, as it had always been since Puck had entered the old man's service. This was a good arrangement, as both were able to keep the other in check when it came to choosing the right foods; McGucket would live off of baked beans forever if he could get away with it, and Puck still hadn't grasped that humans shouldn’t eat nothing but dessert every day.

 Puck was pushing the shopping cart down the aisle, with McGucket sitting in the metal basket, surrounded by veggies and boxes of cereal, looking quite relaxed as they wandered through the store. A few people were staring, but to be fair, if you or I saw a white haired fairy with black beetle wings pushing around an old man in a shopping cart, I think it’s safe to assume that we’d probably start gawking at them as well. It’s not personal.

 While there were many people staring at the two housemates bickering over groceries, one character in particular seemed to have caught the attention of Puck. There, by the bakery, stood a young man in his mid twenties: he was tall with dark, wavy hair and a bright, charming smile, he tilted his head at Puck, as if he was trying to recognize him.

 Puck stared back. Not because the stranger was handsome, oh no, thought Puck, or the fact that he had a little dimple that showed whenever he smiled at him, and that in and of itself was making Puck feel warm and light; no, that was definitely not the reason Puck was staring so intently at this new, pretty stranger. Not even a little bit. Nope. No sir. He was staring back because he wanted to intimidate him. ( _yes, that sounds about right,_ thought Puck). _Who does this gorgeous little punk think he is, staring at me, making me feel all weird… I’ll just… keep staring at him_ , he thought, _that’ll teach him!_

 Puck glowered at the stranger, bearing his sharp, shark-like teeth at the man. For sure it would have been a lot more intimidating if Puck wasn’t dressed in a fluffy, lake foam green sweater that practically engulfed his thin frame; it was like seeing a bundled up puppy trying to act tough in front of strangers.

 But for all his efforts, Puck didn’t seem to be getting anywhere with this stranger, in fact, it looked as if the man was starting to laugh at the weird little gremlin. And a good laugh it was too, Puck noticed, nice and warm sounding, and did that smile of his just get prettier? _That’s no fair,_ thought the Fae, _you can’t just start looking prettier after laughing like that, it’s completely disarming!_

 “Puck? Everything all right?” McGucket asked as the Fae stared down the stranger.

 Puck blinked. He was so taken by the beauty of this mysterious stranger that he had forgotten what he was doing.

 “Um… where am I again?” Puck asked no one in particular.

 You’re at a grocery store, staring at the gorgeous man eyeing the blueberry muffins.

 “Yes… that does sound about right,” Puck admitted, once again overcome with a wave of attraction.

 You’re also drooling a little bit.

 “Whoops,” said Puck, wiping off a trail of saliva from the corner of his mouth.

 “… Who the Sam Hill are you talking to,” asked McGucket, confused.

 “I never said a word,” lied Puck, pushing his cart down the aisle to get a better look at the man.

 In fact, the man was walking over to meet them. A jolt of panic overcame Puck for a few seconds, but he put on his usual smirk once the stranger approached him.

 “Excuse me,” said the man, his voice deep and booming, “I don’t mean to sound like a creep, but are you Robyn-Goodfellow21?”

 “Depends on who’s asking,” said Puck smoothly, his great, silvery eyes piercing as always as he gazed up at the stranger. _Damn, why does he have to be so tall,_ he thought.

 “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody with a conditional identity before,” quipped the stranger, “but my name is Charlie De La Fuente; I’m an intern at the local news station.”

 “Hey wait a minute,” said McGucket, pointing at Charlie, “I’ve seen you! You were at that restaurant when that feller attacked the news lady with his terrible music and exploding cake!”

 “Well, that’s the best summary I’ve ever heard about that whole catastrophe,” Charlie laughed. “Ah, but you must be Goodfellow21,” he said, turning his attention back to Puck, “I recognize _him_ from your video ‘McGucket Hates Celery.’”

 “McGucket Hates Celery” was a video Puck had posted online a few weeks ago. He had discovered, after bringing home buffalo wings one evening, that his boss, well, hated celery. He had glared at the little green stalk all though out dinner; this had amused Puck so much that he compiled a video made of nothing but clips of McGucket finding stalks of celery hidden around the house and him reacting angrily to the loathed vegetable. Puck’s favorite moment had been McGucket finding a stalk in the bouquet his boyfriend had bought him, McGucket had taken one look and slammed the whole arrangement over Ford’s head, all while screaming at the top of his lungs.

 “Well,” said Puck, grinning sheepishly as McGucket shot him a brief glare, “I guess I stand guilty of all charged. My name is Puck and that video you described is my best work.”

 “Ah ha,” said Charlie, who grabbed Puck’s hand and shook it at once, “I’m so glad to finally meet you! I’ve been a fan ever since I found your Snapgram page, your videos always brighten up my day!”

 “It’s true,” said Puck, beaming as the man gripped his slender hand tightly, “I am pretty great. You have good taste.”

 “The _confidence_ ,” said Charlie happily; he shot McGucket another friendly look before adding, “I feel so lucky to have run into you and your son today, it’s nice to meet someone as talented with a camera as Puck!”

 “He’s not my father,” said Puck, a bit too abruptly. There was an awkward pause as McGucket pursed his lips at this snub.

 Charlie quickly recovered.

 “Oh, sorry, an easy mistake,” he said, giving Puck’s hand a slight squeeze. Puck blushed as Charlie continued, “I just naturally assumed that such handsome men would be related.”

 McGucket’s frown thawed away as he descended into a fit of giggles.

 'You really are too charming for your own good,” said Puck, smirking at Charlie with rising affection.

 “Well, I’m certainly glad you think so,” said Charlie with a wink; he glanced at his watch and added, “I’m sorry, but I have to go; the crew wants me to pick up a box of doughnuts—“

 “I’m heartbroken that one of my adoring fans thinks store-bought doughnuts are in any way an acceptable form of pastry,” said Puck with mock horror.

 “Well,” said Charlie, pulling a cream-colored card from his pocket, “If you ever feel like suggesting something better, just give my number a call.” Charlie winked at Puck again as he placed the card in the Fae’s hand.

 “I hope I see you around, Puck!”

 Charlie grabbed his box of doughnuts and left them behind.

 Puck sighed as he stared at the delicate card Charlie had left with him.

 “What a delightful person,” said Puck, his tone smitten as he crumpled the card into a little ball, pitching it over his shoulder.

 Appalled, McGucket rescued the number by catching the paper in his hands.

 “That wasn’t very nice,” he chided Puck as the Fae pushed the cart out of the aisle.

 “No, I suppose it wasn’t,” said Puck, feigning interest in a box of pasta noodles.

 “I thought he was a sweet boy,” said McGucket, crossing his arms across his chest.

 “Yes, I do suppose he was very sweet and boyish,” said Puck, still staring at the pasta box.

 “He was awful handsome too, I reckon,” said McGucket pointedly.

 “Yes, I suppose if you like that sort of type,” sniffed Puck.

“What type?”

 “Oh you know,” said Puck, putting down the pasta box to stare at a different one instead, “The charming, witty type that come in tall, dark and handsome; the kind that still has all their teeth and look as if they’ve actually read something outside of the third grade.”

 “He was definitely that kind,” agreed McGucket, “and he seemed to like _you_ an awful lot.”

 “Oh really,” said Puck, still trying to sound completely bored by this conversation.

 “Yeah! Ya ought to call him,” said McGucket, holding up the crumpled paper to Puck’s eyes.

 “Sorry,” said Puck, sounding not sorry in the least, “but I’m utterly hopeless at this sort of thing.”

 “Ya seemed to be doing fine earlier,” countered McGucket.

 “This summer heat has you seeing things,” said Puck firmly. He refused to speak any more about the conversation they had with Charlie, instead he began bolting up and down the aisle with the cart, ignoring everyone and everything as he tried not to think about how heart melting Charlie’s smile was…

 Puck was so lost in his reverie that he didn’t notice he had bumped into somebody until he heard the sound of McGucket shrieking and the metal carts clashing against each other.

 “Cart fights,” cheered Mabel Pines, who, like McGucket, was sitting in the cart’s basket among an assortment of groceries. She waved cheerfully at the two of them as she said, “Hiya Puck! Hey McGucket! Aw, Puck, you’re wearing the sweater I made you! You look so cute!”

 Mabel’s cart was being pushed by Wendy Corduroy, who shot Puck an icy look; clearly she still hadn’t forgiven Puck for his earlier behavior this summer.

 “Well, hello _Mabel_ ,” said Puck, cheerfully ignoring Wendy’s continued death glare, “you’re right, I do look cute! And what may I ask are you up to today?” He saw that their basket was full of popcorn and sodas; perhaps the Mystery Shack was throwing another dance?

 “Nothing,” said Wendy curtly. “We’re just… getting supplies. Emergency supplies. For the apocalypse.”

 “Oh no, not again,” said McGucket, panicking. “Puck, we gotta get more beans! Quickly now!”

 “Don’t be silly,” said Mabel, waving her hand and Wendy, “We’re getting stuff for movie night!”

 “Ooooooh, that sounds great,” said Puck with a grin, “I can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday night!”

 “Why don’t you come over then,” Mabel asked without looking at Wendy, who looked disgusted with the very thought, “Dipper’s going too; we’re all totally overdue to hang out in a non-life-or-death situation!”

 “Well,” said Puck, pulling at the collar of his sweater uneasily. “I don’t know… I have a lot of plans for tonight, I don’t think I can make it—“

 “Oh, he ain’t got no plans,” snapped McGucket, “get him out of my house!”

 Wendy pinched the bridge of her nose. Eventually, she looked up and said, “Fine. Party’s at my house around six. Bring a snack.”

 “Bye Puck!” cheered Mabel as Wendy pulled the cart away from them. “See you tonight!”

 When the girls were gone, Puck glared at McGucket and said, “what in the world did you do that for?”

 “That’s for throwing away that nice man’s number,” said McGucket. “Of course, if ya wanted to just give him a call after all you can just skip out on the party!"

 Puck growled before turning his cart around.

 “Where are we goin’?” asked McGucket.

 “To get ingredients for whatever dish I’m going to make for this blasted party,” said Puck haughtily. “I think I might want to pick up some celery as well. Lots of it.”


	2. Come Crush a Cup of Wine

Puck and McGucket had argued the entire way home, trapped in a stalemate over the issue of Wendy’s party.

“I won’t go,” insisted Puck, who, nonetheless, was putting the finishing touches on a pan of crab dip he had baked once they left the grocery store.

“And why not,” asked McGucket, his hands placed firmly on his hips.

“Well,” said Puck, “for one thing, I’m not wanted there.”

“Horsewallop,” spat McGucket, “Mabel invited ya, didn’t she?”

“Wendy despises me,” said Puck, sprinkling crab seasoning over the dish, “it’s a known fact.”

“I’m sure you two’d get along fine once you get to know each other,” said McGucket. “You and I didn’t like each other much when we first met. Thought you were a mean little turd, I did.”

“You call me a mean little turd about three times a day,” said Puck, who let the dip rest as he cut a large loaf of French bread into little cubes for the appetizer.

“Only when you’re acting like one, which yer doing right now,” insisted McGucket, “Most of the time, yer a charming young man and a good friend. A fella like you could have as many friends as you’d want, instead of staying home cooped up in this kitchen all the time.”

“Even if I were to go, which I won’t,” said Puck, “Whatever would I even say at this thing? ‘Thank you ever so much for the invitation, I do hope you can look past me kidnapping you and your friends earlier this summer and fusing your best friends together into a mutated freak, here, have some crab dip!’”

“Actually, maybe ya should apologize,” said McGucket, “maybe once she sees how sorry ya are, she’ll be more willin’ to forgive ya! You—you are sorry about what happened, right?”

“Oh, of course I am, the devil do you take me for,” snapped Puck, flushing.

“Oh, shoot, I’m awful sorry,” said McGucket, placing his hand on Puck’s shoulder. “It’s just hard for me to tell sometimes, Puck. It always feels like you’re trying to shut people out about how you feel. Like yer an actor onstage, you act all big and showy around people you want to entertain, but you run offstage anytime somebody tries to get to know ya; like with that Charlie fella.”

“Are we still going to discuss Charlie De La Fuente?” Puck feigned a yawn.

“Yer the one who used his full name, not me buster,” said McGucket. “And I think it’d do ya a world of good if you talked to him—“

“No,” said Puck bluntly.

“It’s either talk to him or go to the party,” insisted McGucket. “So ya better pick yer poison.” Then, suddenly hit with inspiration, he added, “How about I throw in some extra incentive?”

“We’re resorting to bribery now, are we,” said Puck as he shoved the casserole into the oven.

“Well, I got to thinking,” said McGucket casually, “This kitchen is awful big. It could use a few more appliances to fill up all the empty spaces. Maybe while you’re out at the party I can look into getting some new whosits and thingamajigs—”

“The ice cream machine.”

Puck had been raving about an ice cream machine he’d seen on a competitive cooking show, and had pestered McGucket every day about getting one himself. Each time he’d said no, pointing out there was no sense in spending thousands of dollars on a machine that made a product you could buy at the store for four dollars a gallon.

McGucket took a deep breath.

“It’s a deal,” said McGucket, “You go to the party, I’ll build the dang thing myself.”

Puck began to laugh.

“You must really want to get rid of me. Deal!”

* * *

Wendy was pacing angrily across the room like a hungry panther stuck in a cage at the zoo. Her friends, even Dipper and Mabel, were all cowering on the other side of the living room, worried that any moment she would snap and punch a hole in the wall.

“Maybe one of us should say something,” whispered Dipper.

“Good idea,” said Robbie, who then roughly pushed Thompson forward, “Thompson, go talk to her.”

“What?? Guys, no—”

“Thompson, Thompson, Thompson,” they began to chant.

“OH, WHY DO I ALWAYS DO THINGS WHEN YOU CHANT MY NAME???”

A very nervous Thompson gingerly approached Wendy, who was glowering out the window and muttering angrily to herself.

“H-hey Wendy,” stuttered Thompson, “Um, is everything oka—”

“THAT LITTLE CREEP IS COMING HERE!” Wendy exploded in a fireball of rage. In her anger, she threw both her arms up in the air, accidentally walloping Thompson across the face and knocking him to the floor. Thompson groaned in pain as Wendy continued to mumble unintelligible, angry gibberish about Puck as she stomped around the room.

“Wendy, cool it,” snapped Mabel from across the room. “You’re acting like a dingus!”

Wendy took in a deep breath.

“Mabel,” said Wendy, trying and failing to sound calm as she spoke, “I know you meant well, but Puck is a deranged jerk who tried to kidnap us all six weeks ago!”

“Technically,” said Nate, “He only tried to kidnap Robbie and Tambry, and they’re both pretty fine now? We weren’t there.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty indifferent to the whole confrontation,” replied Lee.

“And I’m literally well past over it,” added Tambry, who was viewing “McGucket Hates Celery” for the third time on her phone that afternoon.

“Well, I’m not,” grumbled Wendy, who crossed her arms across her chest.

“Puck’s not that bad, Wendy,” Dipper assured her, “I mean, yeah, he’s done some messed up stuff in the past, but he also helped us escape Oberon back during Midsummer.”

“Come on Wendy, just give him a chance,” Mabel pleaded, “He's so nice!”

“Anybody can fake being nice,” said Wendy dismissively. “That doesn’t mean he’s a good person.”

“I don’t like that guy either,” said Robbie, “He called me a poser!”

“You are a poser,” murmured Dipper under his breath.

“And,” snapped Robbie, glaring at Dipper, “He’s got those creepy eyes that look like they glow in the dark, and those freaky magical powers. I mean… if you think about it… he’s kind of like…”

“Kind of like who,” asked Mabel, who had a terrible idea what Robbie was going to say.

“Look kid,” sighed Robbie, “I know he’s your buddy and everything, but who’s to say that if Puck had been here last year, he wouldn’t be partying it up with that triangle demon and the rest of those monsters?”

“That’s not funny,” said Dipper, who was intensely glowering at Robbie with undisguised dislike.

“I wasn’t joking,” said Robbie quietly.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Dipper, his voice rising, “Puck isn’t anything like Bill!”

“Oh yeah? You weren’t growing out of your girlfriend’s hip like a tumor because of that guy,” snapped Robbie, “Tell me, how is that any different than anything that monster did last year?”

“Did you forget the part where he almost died to save us,” Dipper retorted, “Or are you just being stupid as usual?”

“What did you just say?!”

“Dial it back, guys,” said Wendy, who pushed herself between Dipper and Robbie, both of whom looked ready to fight.

Mabel bit her lip. She has wanted everyone to have fun hanging out with each other tonight, but instead everyone was angry and miserable. _Maybe I’ll just text Puck and tell him not to come because everyone’s acting like jerks_ , she thought to herself, reaching into her pocket to fish out her cell phone. _Things might get too intense if he actually shows up._

Just as Mabel was typing in Puck’s number, there was a great flash of light and a sound like thunder as Puck teleported into Wendy’s living room at last. Wendy and her friends were coughing from all the smoke that Puck’s arrival had generated, once that had cleared, they could see Puck posing dramatically in the middle of the room. He was wearing a floppy sunhat, a bright pink tank top, a long, black tulle skirt, and combat boots that had clearly been spray-painted silver. The silver haired fae held a casserole dish in one hand and a cake box in the other.

“Hello friends,” said Puck, beaming. “I made crab dip!”

                                                                                                                                       * *  *

 As Puck predicted, ninety percent of the people at the party looked either terrified of him or looked as if they wanted to push him in front of an oncoming bus. Mabel at least offered him a weak, strained smile; Dipper was too busy glaring at the skinny emo kid to pay him any mind, and Wendy still scowled dangerously at Puck.

“Ah, Wendy,” said Puck, trying to sound friendly, “Would you kindly show me where to put these?” He lifted up the cake box and the casserole dish ever so slightly. “I can help you set up some more if you’d like?”

“… Sure,” she grumbled, turning her back to him as she walked towards the kitchen. Puck followed after her, trying his best to ignore the stares the other teens were giving him.

“Nice skirt,” spat Robbie as he walked past.

“Thank you Robbie,” said Puck cheerfully, “I always wanted my fashion choices approved by a guy who’s perpetually stuck in 2007. All my dreams have come true at last.”

Before Robbie could lob another insult at him, Puck turned the corner into the kitchen, where Wendy was leaning against a counter, still sulking.

“I love your family’s house,” said Puck with a sincere smile. “It’s cozy. Rustic.”

“Hmm.”

There was silence as Puck placed the food he had brought on the kitchen counter.

“I know cake isn’t normally something you serve at a movie night party,” said Puck, untying the cake box to reveal the chocolate frosted cake inside, “But we had some spare Smith Island Cake back at the house. I thought you and your friends would like some.”

“… Thanks.”

Puck, realizing that he might as well get everything out while they were alone together, suddenly burst out, “Wendy, I know you don’t care for me, and I don’t blame you. What I did a few weeks ago, kidnapping your friends—it was horrible. You’re under no obligation to forgive me, but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

Wendy stared at him, her expression blank as a fresh sheet of paper.

“… Dipper and Mabel really like you, you know that,” she said quietly.

“They’re sweet kids,” said Puck. _What an insufficient description,_ he thought, _without those two I would never have been freed. They saved me from Oberon._ _I owe them a debt that I can never hope to repay._

“I’m not saying you’re off the hook,” said Wendy sternly. “But… for the sake of keeping the twins happy, I’ll look into trying to look past what happened.”

“… Thank you,” said Puck, his eyes widening in surprise at this news.

“Don’t make me regret it,” she warned him.

“I won’t.” He could have hugged her, but, judging from the way she was looking at him, he held off. They could take things at a one foot in front of the other pace.

“… Where the heck did you even get Smith Island Cake from?” said Wendy.

“Well, considering it mentions a specific island in the name,” said Puck, quickly recovering his usual cocky attitude, “I’m teasing. Got it the same place we got the crabs. McGucket invited me along on a trip to the Science Center in Baltimore last weekend where he spoke at a robotics meeting? We had a good time; the east coast isn’t quite as exciting as this weird little town, but it was fun fooling around in the city. We’re planning on going to Manhattan sometime in August.”

“It’s good to know you’re getting along with McGucket, at least,” said Wendy, who at last returned the smile Puck was giving her. “Go take a seat on the couch with everybody. I’ll get the rest of the food served while the first movie starts up.”

Puck left the kitchen feeling happier than he’d felt in ages. The old man had been right after all, he could get used to having people like him again. He found the others crowded on top of the couch; Robbie and Dipper were still giving each other the rankest case of stink eye Puck had ever seen, but they were separated by at least Tambry and Mabel at the moment.

“Excuse me,” drawled Puck, plopping down between Dipper and Mabel and resting his arms on top of their heads, “But what are we watching tonight, anyway?”

“This garbage adaptation of _Romeo and Juliet_ they made me and Thompson watch at theater camp all the time,” replied Tambry, holding up a DVD case that looked like the late 90’s spewed all over.

“Ew, Shakespeare?? They still perform that talentless hack’s plays? Worst guy I ever dated,” sneered Puck, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Wait, you _dated_ Shakespeare?” Dipper raised his eyebrows skeptically at this odd piece of information.

“Regretfully, yes,” sniffed Puck. “He was a terrible kisser and he always took bits about my life and put them into his dreadful plays.”

“Wow,” said Dipper, not entirely sure if Puck was kidding or not, “That’s rough buddy.”

“Maybe we should pick something else to watch then, in case this gets awkward,” said Mabel. “I still can’t quite listen to Sev’ral Timez after I had them living in the attic for a bit last summer.”

“Are you mad? Making fun of your ex’s stupid art is the best,” said Puck cheerfully. “Besides, isn’t that the guy from the boat movie in this? I love him.”

This was an understatement. Puck had stayed up all night a few weeks ago binging on every movie the hapless romeo had ever been in online. McGucket had woken up at three am to find Puck sobbing his eyes out and screaming, “I’ll never let go,” at the computer screen.

“Well, here goes nothing,” said Tambry, who put in the dvd case just as Wendy had came back to the living room with the snacks Puck had brought.

It couldn’t have been a more perfect night—though the movie was absolutely horrendous, Puck and the others were mercilessly mocking it all the way through. There is a certain sort of joy that comes from making jokes with your friends about something distasteful, and every flubbed line of Elizabethan English, every failed action scene, and every horrible costume choice this movie provided just served to bring the group closer together. This, added with the excellent food Puck had brought, made this one of the best movie nights Wendy had hosted in a long time.

Things took a turn, however, when Mercutio showed up.

Puck didn’t recognize that it was supposed to be him at first—the director had chosen to interpret Mercutio as a drag-wearing, drug dealing weirdo who, like most of the other actors, kept butchering the lines he was supposed to be singing. All the same, it started to stoke the coals of old, burned out memories he had long ago thought he’d put out.

_A masked ball—he had met a man at a masked ball and he was talking about fairies. He had caught Puck’s eye and Puck, in turn, had caught his. They had talked all night—what even had they talked about? Did it matter? It must have, because the man had taken Puck by the hand and lead him away from the swirling disguised dancers, and once they were alone, truly alone, the man pulled him close (Puck liked that he had pulled him close) and—_

“Puck?”

He blinked. Mabel was looking up at him, her eyes filled with concern.

“Everything ok? You zoned out like a zombie for a second.”

“I’m fine,” said Puck, not meaning what he said.

The story returned its attention to the dull young lovers, and, though the others still mocked the absurdity of the movie, Puck had deflated, and kept his mouth shut.

He hadn’t read this play, he stopped after reading the truly dreadful one about Tanya and Oberon, Will had gotten everything wrong. Perhaps he’d get this play wrong too, perhaps Mercutio was fine and spent the rest of the show singing and dancing like a merry idiot without a care in the world. _He would have loved that_ , Puck thought bitterly as the doomed teens vowed to marry each other in the afternoon.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather watch something else,” Dipper whispered to Puck, “I’m getting kind of sick of this movie. Back me up and we can watch _Goblins in Utah 2_ instead.”

“Absolutely not,” said Tambry dryly, “Thompson and I had to watch this movie over five times while we were camp counselors, you _all_ have to soak in this misery.”

“I’m fine,” Puck repeated, still not meaning the words he spoke.

The scene had changed to Romeo being challenged by the Capulet brute, and foolhardy, mercurial Mercutio deciding he would fight in that gormless idiots stead.

 _Don’t do it you fool,_ thought Puck, his heart racing. _Run you idiot; look at his eyes, the_ eyes! _You don’t know what you’re getting into_ —

Romeo jumped in the way of the fight, and the brute landed a mortal blow beneath his arm into Mercutio’s chest.

The television exploded first, in a hot glow of electricity plastic and broken glass scattered everywhere.

“What the hell?!” Wendy cried.

The furniture flew around the room next, tables and chairs flew in all directions, clattering against each other and narrowly missing each of the teens, who immediately ran for cover. All this happened while the lights flickered and glowed with an unearthly gleam.

“Get him to stop,” snapped Robbie at Dipper; the boy was pointing to Puck, whose eyes glowed bright silver like moonlight. Dipper made out through all this chaos the shimmer of tears streaming down Puck’s cheeks.

“Puck! Puck, calm down,” Dipper cried, he tried to shake the fae out of his fit, even going far enough to slap him to try to knock him to his senses. Breathing heavily, Puck finally snapped back into the present. With dawning horror, he saw the destruction he had caused, the shocked, angry looks on everyone’s faces.

“S-sorry.” Puck’s voice cracked when he had spoken, he was still sobbing. “I’ll fix this.”

He snapped his fingers, which fixed all the broken furniture including the TV. He then suddenly stood up, not looking at anybody else.

“You got some nerve—” snapped Robbie.

“I’m leaving,” Puck assured him. “I’m sorry… so very sorry… I ruined your night.”

Puck vanished at once. He found himself outside the doors of McGucket Manor. Slamming the front doors open, he found McGucket himself welding together a long metal box in the warm light of the entrance hall.

The old man looked up, confused.

“Puck? You’re early, I was gonna surprise you! How was the party—”

“ _Horrid!_ ”

Puck was heaving as he spoke, his face was flushed and the tears just wouldn’t stop no matter how much he wished he wouldn’t cry, not here, not now after all this time.

Before McGucket could even ask what was wrong, Puck vanished into his own bedroom, where he wouldn’t emerge for quite some time.

 


	3. Sad Hours Seem Long

Despite currently owning a very large, soft bed, McGucket was often cramped while sleeping upon its mattress. The main culprit for this was his fiancé, who was currently sprawled across the bed and partially on top of McGucket as well, snoring heavily with his arm around McGucket’s waist in his slumber. A few books that Ford had been looking over before bed also crowded the mattress, and at the foot of the bed Raccoon Wife was curled in a ball, idly chewing on one of Ford’s toes as he slept. Of course, that isn’t even accounting for the brownies, which in this case were not squares of chocolate pastries but a type of fae that did household chores and looked a bit like pastel-colored chinchillas. They had arrived in McGucket’s house around the same time Puck had, and the tiny creatures absolutely adored their new master. Every night at least twenty would crawl into McGucket’s bed to sleep. He could see that three had chosen to nest in Ford’s hair tonight, while a few others had taken to using his own beard as a great fuzzy blanket.

McGucket, however, could not sleep. It had been three days since the disastrous party and Puck hadn’t left his room. With Puck sequestered away, the mansion had once again become a lonely, empty place for McGucket. Though the house was much more comfortable than his home in the dump, Fidds rarely had visitors save for his son, who even then didn’t visit nearly as often as he would have liked. Sure, Puck could be arrogant, even a pest at times, but he was also lively and fun to be around. Puck’s company made the dark, gloomy halls of the old mansion feel like an actual home to McGucket; to see that spark suddenly snuff out was disinheriting.

“Stanford,” whispered McGucket as he nudged his fiancé in the side with his elbow. Ford snorted, disturbing the three slumbering brownies on his head as he stirred awake.

“Fiddleford?” Ford yawned as the three brownies jumped off his head onto a nearby pillow. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m worried about the boy again.”

“Fidds, Puck is hundreds of years old, he’s not exactly a kid,” mumbled Ford. He’d heard Fiddleford voice his concerns over Puck for the last few nights without reprieve. He had no other advice to give his fiancé than what he’d already said the last two nights, so he began to settle back into his pillows to sleep once more.

“He’s still holed up in his room,” McGucket continued, “and I ain’t heard a peep out of him since Saturday.”

“So what you’re telling me,” said Ford, pulling McGucket close to his side as he spoke, “Is that Puck is keeping to himself and being quiet? You consider that a problem?”

“ _Ford!_ ”

“Oh, come now, you know I’m joking… mostly.”

“That’s a terrible joke.”

“He isn’t always quiet,” squeaked one of the brownies, who poked her little head from out of Fidds’ beard. “I went by his room to drop off his dinner and I think I heard him crying.”

“Poor Puck,” the brownies sighed in chorus.

“Do any y’all know what’s got him bent out of shape like this,” asked Fidds.

“Who knows,” shrugged a small brownie, now settling back onto Ford’s head, “He never tells us what’s bothering him when he gets like this. When he was Oberon’s hostage, it was easy to figure out, but now that he’s free he’s still all broken up about _something_.”

“Well, I’m gonna figure it out,” declared Fiddleford with a determined look in his eye, “nobody’s going to be unhappy in this house if I can help it!”

He jumped out of bed, several brownies still clinging to his beard as he took his glasses off the nightstand and began to stomp out the door.

“Fidds, it’s four in the morning.”

“Can’t talk Stanford, have to save the family.”

“You’re still in your night shirt…”

“Can’t hear you, saving the family now!”

Ford, too exhausted to argue, simply fell back to sleep.

 

It was around the crack of dawn that Fiddleford began rapping on Puck’s bedroom door. He thought he could hear the sound of sniffling behind the ornate wooden door.

“Puck? You in there still?”

The sniffling stopped.

“Please leave.” Puck’s voice was hoarse and strained behind the door. “I’ve already finished the chores for today. If there’s anything else that needs tending to I’ll see to it, but I’m not leaving this room for anything else.”

“Well, all right then,” said Fidds, his tone casual as he leaned against the doorway, “except I just stopped by the market and got some ingredients for that there ice cream machinamajig I rigged up Saturday; I was thinking we could make ice cream for breakfast.”

The door creaked as Puck opened it ever so slightly. Through the small crack Fiddleford could see that Puck was quite disheveled: his hair hung limply around his face, which looked puffy and tired from lack of sleep and an excess of tears.

“Ice cream isn’t a breakfast food,” said Puck dully.

“It’s got eggs and milk, and probably about the same amount of sugar as yer average breakfast cereal,” countered Fiddleford. “Why don’t ya come down to the kitchen and take a look?’

Puck stared at Fidds morosely, but emerged from his bedroom. The faint, musky scent of sweat hung in the air as the fae trudged out into the hallway. Fidds had smelled worse, (heck, _he_ had smelled worse during his worst days out on the streets) but gently suggested perhaps Puck would like a shower before going to the kitchen. Wordlessly, Puck snapped his fingers and conjured a mini storm cloud that rained scented water down upon his head. Fidds tsked about the water dripping onto the hardwood floor, but Puck took care of that as well by summoning a warm breeze that quickly dried the rain away.

Puck’s expression didn’t change until they arrived in the kitchen, where Fiddleford had laid out a variety of ingredients—fresh eggs and cream, along with bottles of vanilla extract and bags of sugar, fruits, candies, and different types of nuts all spread across the kitchen’s vast counter in brightly colored bowls. Beyond that was the finished ice cream machine, a rectangular box that was made of brightly polished copper. Puck stared wide-eyed at the machine, which shone with a friendly, inviting gleam in the early morning sunshine pouring in through the windows.

Before Fidds could even ask if the fae had liked his gift, Puck quickly began to pull out pots and pans to make custard. As Puck cracked eggs and measured out cream and sugar into cups, Fidds left him to his own devices. He recognized the look of someone completely enamored in their passion. It was clear that Puck loved cooking as much as Fiddleford loved inventing machines. Fiddleford went off to work on his own projects for an hour before returning to the kitchen to check back on the boy. Puck was sprinkling some slivered almonds on top of a tub full of chocolate ice cream.

“Dark Chocolate and Orange gelato,” said Puck with a little smile. “Did you want to give it a try?”

“I sure would,” said Fidds, pulling up a chair next to the counter. Puck retrieved a couple of bowls and spoons, and soon both had a scoop each of the dessert.

“My! That’s amazing,” said Fidds; after one spoonful he was hooked on the flavorful treat.

“Thank you.”

“I’m glad to see your present works,” said Fidds kindly. “You’ve been down a lot here lately and… you deserve something that makes ya happy.”

A misty sort of look came over Puck’s eyes, but he offered McGucket a smile.

“If ya wanted to talk ‘bout it, I’ll listen,” said Fidds, “but if ya ain’t ready to talk yet, that’s fine too.”

“No… No I think it’d be good to finally talk,” said Puck quietly. “That night at the party… It brought back an old memory that I didn’t think would still bother me, even after all this time.”

“Bad memories were always somethin’ I had problems with,” nodded Fidds, his tone sympathetic as he spoke. “You can try to cover ‘em up, or forgettin’, but I’d say its best to try to talk through ‘em.”

“It’s a long story,” warned Puck.

“I ain’t got no place to be,” said Fidds.

Puck inhaled to speak, when there was a sudden commotion heard from the other room.

“Now what in the world?” cried Fidds, raising his eyebrow at the noise.

“I’ll check on it,” said Puck, who teleported out of the room to the front entrance. With a snap of his fingers, the doors flew open, revealing Dipper, Mabel and Wendy bickering at the door. They hadn’t quite noticed Puck at that moment, so they carried on with their argument.

“Guys, we should give up,” said Wendy with a shrug, “if he wasn’t coming out yesterday or the day before, then he’s probably not going to come out today either.”

“Never say never not ever again,” chirped Mabel, who was wearing her most sparkly pink sweater and holding a huge box covered in bows. “He was so sad last Saturday, I can’t have one of my new best friends feeling this down without a Mabel Happiness Makeover!”

“I’d normally stay out of it,” said Dipper, looking up at Wendy solemnly, “but… people don’t just break down over a stupid movie without some kind of reason.”

“Like… I agree he’s probably been through a lot,” nodded Wendy, “But if he doesn’t want to open up about it, then there’s really nothing we can do.”

Puck coughed; the group fell silent at once when they saw him standing in front of them.

“Puck!”

Mabel dropped the package she was carrying to the ground so she could tackle Puck around the waist into a hug. Without a word, Puck slowly returned the gesture.

“Um… how much did you hear of that,” said Dipper, sweating nervously.

“Pretty much the entire conversation,” said Puck, untangling himself from Mabel’s grasp. “Did you really come try to see me the past few days?”

“Well yeah,” said Dipper, “You were so upset the other day and none of us knew why or what to do, so we just kinda… kept showing up.”

“McGucket said you weren’t seeing anybody,” said Mabel, “but we wanted to check up just in case. Here look!” She grabbed the present from off the ground and ripped open the top, revealing an overly large teal sweater.

“Who’s that on the front,” said Puck, flattered by the present.

“It’s that couple from the roller derby anime you like so much,” said Mabel, who without warning shoved the sweater over Puck’s head.

“ _Rory on Blades!_ ” cried Puck happily. The sweater hung loose on his thin frame, almost falling down to his knees, and for the first time that day Puck was positively beaming.

He did, however, dull his expression when he turned to Wendy.

“I’m terribly sorry I ruined your party,” he mumbled.

“Honestly? Not the first time my house got trashed at movie night,” Wendy shrugged. “At least you cleaned up afterwards. We still haven’t completely repaired the roof after Robbie and I watched _Phantom Bustifiers_ in eighth grade.”

“What happened to the roof?”

“It’s best you don’t know.”

“I thank you for your patience with me, my friends,” said Puck. “And your efforts to cheer me up. I appreciate it, truly. If you’d like to come inside, I was actually about to tell McGucket about my behavior last weekend. I think it’s only fair that I share that story with you.”

He lead the group into the house and back to the kitchen, where McGucket was polishing off his third bowl of the Chocolate Orange gelato.

“Howdy kids,” said Fidds, waving at the trio as they took their seats next to him.

“Woah, ice cream breakfast,” cheered Mabel.

“Help yerself,” said McGucket, “Puck made it this morning.”

“Is this what you do all day,” Wendy asked Puck, “Make desserts for yourself?”

“Perhaps we can discuss my confectionary talents another day,” said Puck, taking his seat next to McGucket at the counter. The kids soon followed suit.

“As I recall, I was about to tell everyone some of the details of my tragic back story,” sighed Puck. He stirred his ice cream around in his bowl with a spoon before speaking again.

“It was a long time ago. I had been in Oberon’s possession for about a decade. He was always ambitious, even if he never had the brains to but these ambitions into motion. Lucky for him, he found a benefactor who, for whatever reason, wanted Oberon to achieve his dreams of power and glory.”

“Was it Bill?” Dipper asked suddenly.

“… What?” blinked Puck.

“I just… well, ever since we ran into his statue earlier I… had a few theories. You know how that goes, right,” said Dipper, rubbing the back of his head.

“Do I?”

“Well… it was him, right,” asked Mabel, ignoring the annoyed look on Puck’s face.”

One big sigh later, Puck continued to say, “Yes. Yes it was. In fact, it’s probably best to get this out of the way now, but pretty much every problem in this story that wasn’t caused by my own stupidity was the result of his malice. Now please. Let me tell my story.”

 

 

 


End file.
